Elm Trees

I don’t know where these days run off to, but I’d love to know where they end up.

Last night, I had the most amazing dream that one of the faculty members at Spalding was dressed in a tuxedo and tossed me the keys to a hotel suite.  Earlier this week, I dreamed that I was running through a labyrinth with Ghost and Edub, looking for a particular room.  When we found it, I knew it was time to leave.  I asked Edub how to get out and she replied, “That’s easy, just follow the red and purple signs.”  How coincidental that the new ink I received in Dryer’s chair last week is … purple and red.  So.  I take both dreams as a very clear message from the Universe that the ways in which I’m spending my time are on track for my future.  In time, the life seeds I’m planting will grow intro sacred elm trees.  Good thing I know a great arborist. 

With that bit of inspiration, I tackled today with a fiery passion for all things writerly.  After a good ninety minutes at the gym, I sat in my lab for hours, writing query letters, polishing my author cover letter and sending off submissions for a full length collection of poetry, and a short story collection.  It’s an arduous process, but much like editing, it is a labor of love.  I have sent out my words into the world and hope that they will be received well.  And even if the collections are rejected, that’s okay.  This hasn’t been a poor use of time, but rather, a great exercise in patience. After all, if Pete Duval is tossing me keys, that has to mean something.

Now bleary eyed and waiting for my homemade minestrone soup to thaw, I’m wondering what to do with the rest of the time left with my day.  I’m expecting a package and an Amazon order but the mail hasn’t arrived.  The letter carrier must be on her own time today.